


Pupusas And Moony Eyes

by Tiny_Dragongirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Avengers, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 12:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19020157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_Dragongirl/pseuds/Tiny_Dragongirl
Summary: It’s “cooking with friends” time, not “seductive cooking with your love interest”, right?





	Pupusas And Moony Eyes

“Pass me the oil, please!” Tony asks and Steve hands him the bottle. “Thanks.”

 

As he kneads the dough, squeezing it vigorously, Tony notices from the corner of his eye Steve staring at him absent-mindedly. He can’t help a smile. Steve must be really hungry. Well, a fast metabolism requires fast food— or at least, something that can be made in a short amount of time.

 

“Want a taste?”

 

Tony offers a piece of dough—he expects Steve to take it from him, so it’s a bit of a surprise when everyone’s favourite captain (let’s be honest,  _ Tony’s _ favourite captain) leans in and licks it off his fingers.

 

And his eyes never leave Tony’s face.

 

“Mhm.”

 

If Tony had any coherent thoughts before this, they all fly out of the window now. For the first time after months of pining, he wonders if he has missed any signs. Like, who knows, the signs of Steve being attracted to him? Maybe Tony’s isn’t a one-sided attraction after all.

 

Bruce clears his throat. “The bacon’s doing fine, if anyone’s interested.”

 

Yeah. Right. This snaps Tony back to reality. It’s “cooking with friends” time, not “seductive cooking with your love interest”. Next time, though... 

 

“What are we making?” Clint wanders in.

 

“Pupusas,” answers Tony, hissing out the last  _ s  _ like an overgrown snake.

 

“Uhh, nice?”

 

“It’s the national dish of El Salvador,” Bruce explains. “It’s like, er, quesadillas but bundled up?”

 

“Mmm, can’t wait to try it!”

 

“Love the enthusiasm.” Tony tosses the box containing the cheese at Clint. “Kindly grate the cheese, please!”

 

“All of it?”

 

“All of it,” Bruce nods “because sometime between heating the pan for the bacon and measuring the flour Tony accidentally invited half of the city for dinner.”

 

“I did not!” the accused protests. “See, the kid’s coming over after school but that’s all. Okay, Rhodey might pop in too, and I’m sure Pep’ll be very hungry after a day full of meetings. Also, Thor might land on the roof any minute, and Clint’s just announced he’s starving, hasn’t he?! I can’t leave all these people hanging!”

 

Tony doesn’t even realise he’s gesturing with a knife in his hand, not until Steve catches his wrist and gently takes the knife from him.

 

“I’ll chop the pepper, okay?” he offers and only Steve “Star-Spangled” Rogers can make such a simple kitchen task sound sexy.

 

To be fair, Tony might be a tiny bit biased. According to him, everything about Steve is sexy.

 

“What’s with the moony eyes this time?” As soon as she walks in and takes in the scene in front of her, Nat starts conspiratorially whispering with Clint.  _ Typical. _

 

“Steve offered to chop pepper.”

 

“I hope he meant those healthy-looking vegetables on the counter, not my girl.” Natasha frowns. “Nobody’s messing with my girl.”

 

“Nat, why don’t you help Tony with rolling the dough into balls? Pretty please?” Bruce asks.

 

She takes a golf-ball sized portion of dough and rolls it but not without further remarks. “If we’re making pupusas, shouldn’t we use masa harina?”

 

“See, it was a spontaneous idea,” Tony shrugs, “so we decided to work with what we have at hand. And although it’s nice that you two decided to pitch in, I’m not sure this dish requires so many chefs. I mean, it’s easy as pie, right?”

 

“Surely not like the last pie you made.” Clint grimaces. “If that was really a pie.”

 

Steve points the knife at him. “Next time you make the pie, Barton.” It sounds playful— but also like a serious threat. Tony fights oh-so-hard against batting his eyelashes at his knight in shining armour.

 

Clint holds up the cheese grater—as a weapon or as a shield, it’s unclear. “Aww, how sweet, Rogers.”

 

“Not sweeter than the pie you’ll make for us.”

 

“Oh, burn! If Cap keeps being sassy, we won’t even need the oven to bake the pupusas.”

 

Without thinking, Tony says, “Yeah, well, Cap’s certainly hot enough to bake pupusas on him but we won’t need the oven anyway. We’ll need the stove and a pan— care to find one, Legolas?”

 

While rummaging through the cupboard, Clint sings, “Bacon pancakes  makin' bacon pancakes/Take some bacon and I'll put it in a pancake/Bacon pancakes, that's what it's gonna make/Bacon pancaaake!”

 

“Wow, Clint, I’d clap if I wasn’t so busy right now. Ready for the filling?”

 

“These balls are ready whenever you are,” Tony replies deadpan. Bruce rolls his eyes and takes the bowl to the centre counter where an army of dough balls are waiting to be filled. “Avengers, assemble! These beauties won’t fill themselves!”

 

Eventually the dough balls are replaced by freshly baked pupusas. Bruce’s in charge of the pan, while Tony hands him pupusas waiting to be baked, and Steve stacks the ready ones on a huge plate. Natasha keeps batting Clint’s hand away, preventing him stealing from the pile.

 

“Come on! Just one!”

 

“Not yet, Clint. Go and set the table!”

 

The last piece safely delivered on top of the pile everyone picks up something Clint forgot (salt shaker, extra plates for those who’ll join them later etc.) and in a blink of an eye Tony finds himself alone in the kitchen. He looks around and spots a forgotten carton of orange juice. If there isn’t anything else— Tony’s about to follow the others when Steve returns. What returns!, he marches up to him and soon Tony’s pressed between the fridge and Steve. Well, he could imagine worse places to be at.

 

“As much as I adore our friends, next time” Steve hooks his index finger into the collar of Tony’s shirt, pulling him closer “next time it’ll be just you and me, cooking together. If anyone else turns up, I’ll throw them out of the window.”

 

And damn if Tony doesn’t find that image sexy.


End file.
